Eleventh Hour Read Online Free PDF Page A

with me, as long as I’m the boss and what I say goes.”
    “I don’t want to take over the case,” Dane said, “not at all. I just want to help find my brother’s murderer.”
    Kreider said, “All right then. Delion’s partner, Marty Loomis, is out with shingles, of all things, laid up for another couple of weeks. Inspector Marino has been in on this since Sunday night with Delion. I’ve given this some thought.” He paused a moment, smiled. “I knew Dillon Savich’s father, Buck Savich. He was a wild man, smart enough to scare a crook off to Latvia. I hear his son isn’t wild—not like his father was—but he’s got his father’s brains, lots of imagination, and is a professional to his toenails. I respected the father and I respect the son. You, Carver, I don’t know a bloody thing about you, but for the moment I’ll take Savich’s word that you’re pretty good.”
    “Like I said,” Delion said, “I don’t mind him tagging along, sir. Hey, maybe he’ll even say something bright every now and again.”
    “That’s what I was thinking,” Kreider said. He paced a couple more times, then pulled up right in front of Dane. “Or would you rather go off on your own?”
    Dane looked over at Delion. The man wasn’t giving anything away at all. He just stared back. Dane wasn
    ’t a fool. He slowly shook his head. “No, I’d like to work with Delion.”
    “Good.” Chief Kreider raised his coffee cup, took one sip, and set it down. “I’ll have the lieutenant reassign Marino. Delion, I expect twice-daily updates.”
    After they were dismissed, Delion said as they walked to the garage, “Lots of the guys wonder how Kreider makes love since the guy is always pacing, back and forth, never stopping. Tough to get much done when you can’t hold still.”
    “Didn’t you see that old movie with Jack Nicholson— Five Easy Pieces ?”
    Delion rolled his eyes and laughed as he pulled the 1998 Ford Crown Victoria, white with dark blue interior, out into traffic on Bryant Street. Delion headed north, crossed Market Street, and weaved his way in and out of traffic to Nob Hill. They found a parking slot on Clay.
    Delion said, “Dispatch sent a field patrol officer from the Tenth District. He notified Operations, and they called me and the paramedics. Here, our paramedics are the ones who notify the medical examiner.
    Because it’s very high profile, Dr. Boyd himself came to the church. I don’t know how well you know San Francisco, but we’re near one of the gay districts. Polk Street is known for lots of action. It’s just a couple of streets over.”
    “Yes, I know,” Dane said. “Just in case you’re wondering, my brother wasn’t gay.”
    “That’s what your sister told me,” Delion said. He paused a moment, looking up at the church. “Saint Bartholomew’s was built in 1910, just four years after the earthquake. The other church burned down.

    They made this one of redbrick and concrete. See that bell tower—one of the big civic leaders at the time, Mortimer Grist, paid for it. It’s a good thirty feet above the roof.”
    “Everything seems well tended.”
    “Let’s go inside the church first,” Delion said. “You need to see where everything is.”
    He needed to see where his brother’s life was ended. Dane nodded, but as he walked down the wide central aisle, closer and closer to where Michael had been shot, in the third confessional, Delion had told him, the one that stood nearest to the far wall, each step felt like a major hurdle. His breathing was hard and fast. As difficult as it had been to see his brother lying dead on that gurney, this was harder. He suddenly felt a vivid splash of color hit his face and stopped. He looked up at a brilliant stained-glass window that spewed a spray of intense colors right where Dane was standing. He didn’t move, he just stood, looking up and then beyond the colors, to the scene of Mary and Joseph in the stable, the baby Jesus in the manger